


To Save a Babybird

by LAW28



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13560087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LAW28/pseuds/LAW28
Summary: One night on patrol Tim is kidnapped by a mysterious man.Who is he and What does he want with Tim? Will Batman and Nightwing be able to find out and save the third Robin?





	1. Nice Night for a Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is my first attempt at a story with a plot. Let me know how I'm doing with it!   
> ** This means I'm changing POV during the Chapter. I won't use it if POV shifts at the end/beginning of a chapter.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own any thing in this story.

The night shifts around me, moving and breathing almost feeling like it’s alive as the wind whispers into my ears.  
Sitting atop a skyscraper I’m too high up to really see what’s happening on the city streets far below my perch, but I can see the twinkle of the lights that make Gotham look almost pretty from this distance. It’s a lie because I know if I get closer than I’ll see the rot and decay, the corruption that plagues the, streets and the people in power to fix it that choose to make it worse instead.   
Sighing I stand up, I need to get back to work before Batman starts wondering where I’ve gone. We split up earlier on patrol when two calls came in one of a gang shoot out at the docks on the other side of town and one for here, about someone walking in and shooting at anything that moved. Batman took the gang and told me to come here, but when I arrived there was no one in sight. Not even any supposed victims or police officers investigating the area.   
I still checked it out but the whole building was dark, it looked like everyone had already gone home for the night several hours ago. I guess it was just a prank.   
Taking out my grappling gun, I take one last look at the city spread out below me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, making me hesitate for a second. There’s a soft sound behind me almost like a sneeze that’s all the warning I get before something sharp pricks the back of my neck.   
One hand jerks up to my neck pulling something out, I bring my hand down and see a small dart resting in my palm shinning in the city lights. Instinctively before I can really process what I’m holding or even what it means, my other hand presses the emergency beacon on my belt. Hopefully I’ll have this handled before Batman shows up, but honestly I doubt things will be that easy.  
My heart pounds faster, before it suddenly starts slowing again.  
Taking a breath I refuse to admit to the heaviness dragging at my limbs or the suddenly distant feeling that is tugging at my mind, forcing my emotions away and causing me to have to focus hard on what I’m trying to do.   
I spin around, silently cursing at how slowly my body is responding to my orders. My eyes sweeping the area until I see a tall man with broad shoulders stepping out of the shadows, dressed in a brown leather jacket with black body armor under it, black pants made out of the same armor, heavy looking combat boots cover his feet, and an empty holster hangs at his side. The gun is in his hand pointed at the ground, as he stares at me his face covered by a red helmet with white slits for the eyes. I don’t recognize him from any files in the Batcomputer.   
His figure blurs out of focus as my knees start shaking and my arms turn into twenty pound weights. Dizziness washes through me and I barely keep my balance as the world spins around me at a nauseating pace.   
I need to move, I need to run, before whatever is in that dart takes effect, but my body refuses to obey my commands, instead of running my legs collapse under my weight. I hit the roof of the skyscraper with bruising force but I barely even feel it.   
My eyes slowly slide closed, the last thing I see is the guy with the red mask standing over me, before everything fades to black.

**

The wind blows across the bay rustling my cape and bringing with it the putrid smell of dead fish and sewage that never seems to go away no matter how many cleanup efforts are made by playboys and philanthropists trying to improve their public images.   
Sneaking from shadow to shadow, I fail to find any sign of the gang shoot out that I heard of on the police scanner. I also fail to find any sign of the police being here at all, in fact the docks are unnaturally quiet for this time of night. Usually there are at least a few drug shipments coming in or someone receiving a load of smuggled goods, but tonight there is nothing.   
Somethings not right, even if the gang members fled and the police already left there should be evidence that they were here, but there is absolutely nothing.   
Reaching up I activate the com in my ear, my chest suddenly feeling tighter, “Robin status.”   
For a second there is only static, and then a distorted voice that definitely doesn’t belong to Robin answers. “Hey Bats, nice night for a distraction wouldn’t you agree.”   
His tone is familiar relaxed, almost flippant. I grind my teeth waiting for him to keep talking, silently I vow, If he’s hurt Robin there will be no place to hide that I won’t find him.  
“Anyway your little bird can’t talk right now, he’s a little tied up. Find him if you can Batman.” There’s a crunch and a high pitched whine before the com line goes dead. Whoever that was probably crushed it.   
Doesn’t matter I have three separate trackers sown into Robin’s suit. Pulling up my glove computer I find all three trackers are still at the skyscraper that Robin went to check out earlier.   
Why is he still there? If this guy was good enough to take Robin than why would he keep him in a place he could easily escape?   
Considering the questions and the possible answers I swing across town. It’s faster than having to wait on the Batmobile to come to me.   
As soon as I slip into the shadows on the roof of the skyscraper I know that no one is here, but Robin was here. That becomes obvious when the trackers lead me to a pile of Robins belt and all three trackers that Robin’s captor somehow managed to find and get out of Robin’s suit.   
Whoever he is, he’s good. I think grimly.  
Forcing my heartbeat and breathing to remain steady I tell myself, Robin’s fine, this guy wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of removing the trackers and his equipment if he was just going to kill him.  
With hands that shake just a little I reach down and carefully collect the belt and trackers. He’ll need this back as soon as I find him.   
Looking over the rooftop it doesn’t take long to figure out that Robin was ambushed, it doesn’t look like he even had a chance to fight back. Whoever took him was quick and efficient, he also had to have been aware of how we operate. Assuming Robin was his target all along and also assuming that he somehow managed to arrange for the false calls that separated Robin from me, he had to know I would send Robin to the less dangerous situation while I took on the more dangerous threat.   
The glint of light on metal catches my eye near the edge of the roof. I cover the distance in a couple of quick steps, bending down I pick up a small dart, the end of the shiny needle stained crimson.   
This explains why Robin didn’t fight. He was shot with this from a distance and then the assailant approached him.   
It was a well thought out plan, but there is something this man failed to consider.   
Nobody messes with my son and gets away with it.


	2. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Disclaimer: I don't own any Characters belonging to DC.

Waking up, feels like emerging into a thick fog. Opening my eyes to a blank gray concrete wall, that is in no way familiar to me. My mind feels slow as I try to process that I’m laying on my back on a mattress my head turned to face a wall. My body sluggish to obey my commands, twitching instead of moving like I want to. Rolling my head to the other side I feel the edges of my Robin mask pressing against my face a comforting presence that helps ground me.   
Taking a breath I assess the rest of the room, I see more blank walls and a metal door about twenty feet away from where I lay. It looks like the mattress and me are the only things in this room.   
Slowly as my thoughts clear I become aware of the pressure around my ankles and the fact that my arms are pinned in an awkward position behind my back, that same pressure that’s around my ankles more pronounced around my wrists.   
Looking down, I see that I’m missing my shoes but I’m still wearing the black armored pants of my Robin costume, my ankles have twin circles of metal around them with a chain connecting them together, giving me no more than an inch of space to move my feet with.   
Grimacing I test to see that my wrists have about the same amount of space if not less to move with. The strain of keeping my arms in that position has the metal circling my wrists cutting into the flesh that would normally be protected by my gloves except they are gone.   
What happened? Where am I?   
The last thing I remember is that guy with the red helmet standing over me before I blacked out.   
Sighing I think, great I’ve been kidnapped again. Wonder if this guy is on his own or if he was hired by someone? More importantly at the moment is the question, why was I kidnapped this time? Revenge? Torture? To be used to make Batman do something?   
I don’t know and that scares me more than the fact that I don’t like being tied up and helpless with no clue as to what’s going on.  
There’s a click soft enough that I almost miss it, then the door opens and the guy with the red helmet walks in, only now he’s not wearing the red helmet, just a red domino mask over his eyes and cheeks, very similar to my Robin mask.   
He pauses when he sees that I’m awake. I take the chance to study him, he’s younger than I thought on the roof, he’s big and has a lot of muscle to him but his face shows that he’s still in his teens, maybe eighteen or nineteen, fair skin that makes his black hair stand out in comparison except for a small white tuft sticking up in the front, that almost blends into his skin tone. He’s not pale just could use more sun, it’s probably because he wears the helmet too much.   
I think idly, and yeesh what did he give me. My brain feels like it’s scattered in the wind.  
The sound of his boots against the concrete floor bring my mind back to what he’s doing, he quickly crosses the distance separating us, and I notice for the first time the circle of metal he’s holding in his hand. I hold completely still my heart suddenly pounding as he reaches for my neck. My eyes widen, instincts take over, my body starts thrashing, jerking and straining against the metal holding me, trying to get free but more importantly trying to jerk away from him but he easily pins me in place with a hand on my chest.   
“Easy kid,” His voice is gruff but not mean, then he snaps the metal collar closed around my neck. The chill of the metal seeps into my skin, a shudder running through my body as I hear a slight humming sound coming from the collar.   
I stop struggling, it’s useless now. I settle for glaring at him, but all that does is earn me an amused chuckle from the guy.   
His hand moves up from my neck toward my face.   
My stomach dropping to my toes, I start fighting again, harder than before. I have no plan no rational thought aside from keeping his hand away from my face. I thrash wildly, jerking and fighting as hard as I can against the, metal cutting into my wrists and the strong pressure on my chest keeping me pinned down.   
I can barely do more than flop around uselessly, but it’s better than just laying down and making this easy for him.  
Grunting he presses down hard enough to make breathing a struggle but I don’t stop trying to squirm away from him.   
Growling his hand moves lightning fast gripping my chin between his fingers, digging them in tight enough that I can already feel the bruises forming.   
“Stop struggling, I’m not going to hurt you.” He informs me.   
I snort and jerk my head trying in vain to free myself from his iron grip.   
Sighing he puts his knee on my chest using just enough pressure to keep me still, before moving his other hand up to my face, and working his fingers under my mask.   
My breathing becomes harsh, my heart races, I stop trying to squirm out from under him, instead I focus all my effort on getting his fingers away from my mask.   
Please, God no. The prayer is instinctive the words barely even formed in my thoughts.  
Panic lends me enough strength to jerk my chin out of his grip, my heart soars for one beautiful second before his hand clamps down again, fingers digging into my cheeks tighter than before. He raises his hand toward my mask again but this time, when I try to jerk away he just hold tighter. A small whimper escapes my mouth as he works his fingers under my mask. It only takes him a few minuet’s to work it off. Leaving my face bare, exposed to his scrutiny.  
“Now was that really so bad?” He asks as he shoves my mask into one of his pockets.  
I don’t answer him, focusing instead on getting my rapid breathing under control. Nausea makes my stomach roll, an icy fist clenching around my heart, because he took my mask. He knows who I am and by extension he knows who Batman and Nightwing are.   
This is the one thing that I swore to myself that I would never let anyone find out. I swore I would protect my family, but now I’ve failed, the most important secret that I was entrusted to keep and I failed.   
The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that mixed with the salty taste of the tears that are threatening to fall.  
Removing his knee from my chest and letting go of my face, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small key.  
He crouches down next to me, his voice harsh as he says “I’m going to unlock your feet, so that you can walk. If you struggle I’ll just have to carry you where we are going.”   
I don’t give him any sign of having heard him, instead I just wait closing my eyes. There’s still time to fix this, if I can get away then I can warn Bruce and Dick, then we can figure out a way to keep this guy from revealing our secret.   
I control my breathing calming my heart beat and listen to the key scraping softly against the cuff as he inserts the key in the lock, there’s a faint click. That’s all I need.  
Jerking my feet free of their restraints I kick out at my captor. My foot connects solidly with his chest, knocking him onto his bottom, he lets out a low growl that’s kind of familiar.   
I flip onto my feet, aiming a spin kick at his head, I never connect with my target a vice like grip closes around my ankle, standing up quickly he jerks me into the air, so that I’m hanging upside down as he grabs my other ankle.   
“Cut it out kid,” He shakes me hard enough to make my teeth rattle, then he carry’s me by my ankles out of the room.   
The next room is just as plain as the room I was in. This room looks like one of a hundred abandoned warehouses down by the docks. The walls are practically caving in on themselves and rot and mold are easy to see on the walls and floor as my captor carries me to another door, this one wood.   
Moving his hands so that he has both my ankles trapped in one of his big hands he opens the door and tosses me inside, tucking my knees I roll into a flip and land on my feet inside another room.   
This one is smaller, than the first room, it’s made out of the same concrete but this has an old cracked toilet against one wall and a sink. There is a pile of clothes sitting in the sink that look clean. They are probably the only clean thing in here.  
“I’m going to unlock your hands and then you are going to change clothes,” My eyes jerk back to my captor standing in the doorway, blocking my only escape from this windowless room.   
My heart thundering in my ears I ask, “Who are you? What do you want?”  
He cracks a smile, but shakes his head, “Not yet Babybird, I’ll tell you later.”   
He walks closer to me I have to force myself to remain where I am instead of backing up until I hit the wall. My chest burns with the need to take quick shallow breaths, but I force myself to breathe slow and steady, as if my heart isn’t racing or my blood pounding so loud in my ears that I’m surprised I can still hear, as if I’m not terrified of this guy and what he wants with me.   
Holding up the key he says, “Turn around.”   
Glaring at him I wait just long enough to make sure he knows I’m choosing to do what he said, before I turn my back to him.   
Resisting the urge to whip back around and kick him in the chest again, I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, the key makes a scraping sound as the locks in the handcuffs click open and he pulls the metal away from my wrists.   
Instantly I jerk away from him, sending a spin kick aimed at where his head was, but I hit empty air. He has backed several steps away and is watching me with an amused smirk on his face.  
He turns to leave the room but pauses as he says casually over his shoulder, “By the way, that collar is a shock collar, try to take it off, and it’ll fry you, attack me again and I’ll let you test it out. You have five minutes to change then I’ll come back and make you change.”   
Before I can retort he leaves the room closing the door behind him. Letting out a sigh, I slowly reach for the clothes he’s left for me. A pair of faded blue jeans a light green shirt and a pair of sneakers and socks.   
Taking a deep breath, I whisper a quick prayer, “Lord please help me to get out of this. I don’t want Bruce to lose another family member. Amen.”   
Glaring at the door I quickly change clothes. I have no idea if he really would come back and force me to change but I’d rather not find out plus without my mask I can’t be walking around in my Robin suit.   
I’ve just finished putting on the sneakers when he comes back in, looking very satisfied. Narrowing my eyes I glare at him, wishing that I could spontaneously develop heat vision. Unfortunately all my glaring seems to do is amuse him, going by the smirk he’s directing at me.   
“Cute, but you’ve got a long way to go before you’re a match for the Daddybats glare.” His voice sounds like he’s trying to hold back a laugh. Then it hardens as he crooks a finger at me, “Come here,”   
Crossing my arms I plant my feet, silently refusing to do what he said. Sighing he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a slim black remote, “Don’t be so stubborn, get over here.”   
Eyeing the remote in his head, I weigh the possibility that he’s bluffing about the collar it is not very likely that he is, and since I’d rather not get electrocuted at the moment I guess I have no choice but to obey him, for now.   
Sighing I drop my arms back to my sides, admitting defeat, and walk up to my captor. He grins at me a real grin not that smirk he’s been using. With his empty hand he ruffles my hair, instinctively I jerk away from his hand, but he catches my arm and pins my hands behind my back, and snaps the cuffs back on with quick practiced movements like he’s done this many times before.  
Still holding my upper arm in a bruising grip, he pulls me out of the room out into the big warehouse room.   
He doesn’t stop instead he pulls me toward one of the doors, set in one of the almost crumbling walls.   
“Where are we going?” I ask as he pushes the door open, the bright late morning sunlight stinging my eyes.   
“To my hideout, this was just a place to ditch your uniform and any trackers I might have missed when I grabbed you.” He explains being oddly forthcoming with information.  
Scowling I look around as he leads me to a car parked about fifty feet from the warehouse. We are close to the docks if the sound of seagulls and lapping water is anything to go by, but far enough away that I can’t smell its stink. In front of us I can see Gotham’s skyscrapers rising up to form a broken line, reminding me of a monsters teeth from a fairy tale or something.   
My attention snaps back to the guy in the red mask, when we reach the car, a loud click sounds in the quiet air as the trunk lid pops open a little.  
One gloved hand still holding me he reaches with the other and lifts the lid the rest of the way open.   
Uh-unh not happening, I refuse nothing good ever comes from being locked in a trunk. I think digging my heels in and refusing to take another step.   
His head turns and the whites of his mask narrow a little before he lets out a long sigh.   
“Do I really have to give you the easy way or the hard way speech every time kid?” He asks sounding very annoyed.  
“When it comes to being locked in a trunk and being manhandled than yes you do.” I snap glaring at him.   
Looking in I see that blankets have been shoved all around the edges of the trunk making a padded shield between the contents of the trunk and the metal of the car. Yeah just cause I’m not going to bust my head on the interior every time he breaks does not mean that I’m ok with getting into that trunk.   
Grumbling something I can’t hear, he grabs me around the waist and lifts my feet off the ground. Kicking out wildly I feel my heels connect with his knees and upper legs, but he doesn’t even pause before tossing me into the trunk like a sack of potatoes.   
Letting out a startled yelp, I have just enough time to make it to my knees before he’s cuffed my ankles together again. Then he pulls a black cloth out of his pocket, ignoring me as I try to wiggle away from him, he quickly wraps the cloth around my eyes twice before knotting it at the back of my head.   
“You know if you’d just behave this would be much easier for you.” He comments.   
As I open my mouth to give him a snarky comeback, a cloth is forced between my lips then tied tightly at the back of my neck.   
His hand closes around my wrists, forcing them up until my shoulders scream with pain, he stops when my wrists are between my shoulder blades. Something thick wraps around my wrists arms and chest a buckle digs into my chest as the strap tightens enough that any movement of my arms or hands sends spikes of pain shooting through my shoulders and down my back.  
Shoving me down onto my stomach he says, “Don’t worry it’s a short ride.”   
The trunk lid slams shut, muffling the sound of his footsteps retreating. Instantly I start rubbing my head against the floor of the trunk, trying to get the gag and blindfold off, but both are tied to tight to come off without being untied first.  
A few minutes later the engine grumbles to life the car lurches, sending me crashing into the blankets lining the trunk, pain lances through my arms as the sudden movement puts pressure on the restraints.   
Growling, into the gag. I take a deep breath in through my nose, keeping my breathing slow and steady, as I try to calm the pounding of my heart.   
Its ok, I tell myself. It is ok, Batman will find me and when he does, he’ll take me home and Alfred will make hot chocolate and give me cookies. It’ll be ok.   
Heart beat calm, I began exploring the trunk as best I can. Searching for anything I can use to pick the locks on the cuffs. Sweaty and panting after over an hour of bumping around in the trunk and not finding anything that is even slightly useful, I give up. The only thing I’ve managed to do is make my arms and back ache and my hands to go numb.   
Laying my head down against the trunk floor, feeling the vibration of the engine as we speed along to wherever it is that we’re going. I breathe deep and steady, forcing my mind to quiet and listen, I can still hear cars and other City noise, so I doubt we’ve left Gotham. Is he just driving around the City to try and confuse my sense of direction, or are we being followed?   
My heart leaps at the idea of Batman and Nightwing following us, getting ready to pounce on the car and get this guy arrested.   
Short ride my foot. I think, trying in vain to shift into a slightly more comfortable position, but between the bouncing and the way my arms are pinned I can’t get comfortable, the most I can do is try not to move so that it hurts less.  
Whoever he is, he certainly knows how to tie someone up. I think sourly, testing the give in the strap pinning my arms. It’s leather and has no stretch to it at all. It almost feels like a belt.   
Left with nothing else to do, since escape isn’t going to happen at the moment. I relax all my muscles in an attempt to ease the ache that has built up between my shoulder blades.   
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to ignore the way my pulse is hammering away in my ears, silently I pray, Please Father help me to escape, or help Bruce and dick to find me. I just keep repeating those words over and over as I bounce around in the car trunk.  
Finally after what feels like forever the car stops moving and the constant grumble of the engine dies away leaving everything silent.   
Straining my ears, I hear the sound of someone shifting around in the front of the car, and the distant sound of traffic but that’s all I can make out.   
So we’re not in the down town area, we’re probably closer to the outskirts. The question is where? It doesn’t take an hour to cross Gotham, not at the steady pace we were going. So it’s safe to assume that he backtracked a lot.   
A door opens and then slams shut, footsteps crunch against dirt or maybe gravel. The trunk lid squeals as it opens.   
“Hey Babybird I see your still here.” There is definitely a smirk in his voice.   
Growling I kick out at him with my both feet.   
Chuckling he slaps my feet away and then grabs me around the waist, hoisting me out of the trunk, and tossing me over his shoulder again.   
Instantly I’m thrashing, ignoring the spikes of pain driving into my shoulders with every jerk of my body.  
There’s a soft hum, and then every nerve in my body is on fire, searing pain rushing through my veins making my heartbeat stutter and the breath freeze in my lungs. Then it stops, leaving me panting into the gag, and my whole body shaking, with more than just the after effects of the electricity that just went through my body.  
“I warned you Tim,” His voice is grim with something else that I can’t quite identify.   
I barely register the sound of a door opening and then the feel of steps, I’m not sure if we are going up or down. Another door opens and closes locks clicking into place, the chill of air conditioning hits me, sending a shiver down my spine.   
Then I’m being set down on something soft.   
“I’m going to untie you, don’t attack me again. I don’t want to hurt you but I will if I have to.” His voice is flat, and familiar but I can’t place it.   
I feel his hands lock around my ankles, holding them still as he takes the cuffs off, before slowly releasing his grip.   
I could lash out, fight him, but my arms are still pinned and even if I were free I’m still wearing the shock collar. Getting shocked for barely a second was bad enough, I don’t want to encourage him to do it for longer. So I’ll be the good little kidnaped boy, for now at least.   
When I don’t immediately try to kick him, he makes a satisfied humming sound, then he loosens the strap (Belt?) Allowing my arms to fall into a less painful position. Letting out an almost silent sight of relief, while he takes the handcuffs off.   
My fingers twitch with the almost overwhelming desire to punch him, but I put a leash on my instincts and satisfy myself with pulling my hands out from behind my back and rolling the knots out of my shoulders, my hands tingle as the blood flow to my fingers is restored.   
It takes him a minuet to work the knots out of the blindfold and gag but eventually he gets them off.   
I blink my vision into focus my gaze already sweeping over the room. The lights are dim but not dark, the concrete walls are a clean off white the smell of fresh paint hanging in the air. The floors are a light brown hardwood, but I’m pretty sure the underfloor is reinforced. I’m sitting on a surprisingly comfortable black leather couch, in front of me is a decent sized flat screen TV, to the left is a matching black leather recliner.   
Over the back of the couch I see an open kitchen with only a half counter separating it from this room, from what I can see it is fully stocked with a new stove, microwave, refrigerator and a coffee pot. On the left wall are two doors both are open, and as far as I can tell both rooms are bedrooms.   
On the right wall is another door this one is closed with several locks on it. Probably the exit I decide.   
Leaning against the wall a couple feet away from the locked door, is my captor, his arms crossed over his chest, his mask gone allowing teal blue eyes to watch me closely with a decidedly familiar blank expression.   
Those eyes, stop me cold. Stealing the breath from my lungs and freezing the blood in my veins, because I know those eyes. A picture in Wayne Manor has those eyes set in a much younger face, but there is no mistaking him.   
“Jason?” The name is barely louder than a whisper, but it brings a smirk to the older boy’s face.   
“What Bruce didn’t tell you I was alive and kicking?” He asks an edge hidden under the joking tone.   
Wordlessly I shake my head before finding my voice again, “Your dead,”   
He laughs it’s a humorless sound, that grates against my ears and makes me want to curl up into a ball and hide until the sound stops.   
“It’s amazing how a Lazarus Pit can fix that.”   
Of course, the pieces click into place the facts lining up in a neat row like ducks.   
“Does Bruce and Dick know?” I ask because, how could Bruce not tell me? Jason was my hero I still visit his grave. Sometimes after a really hard patrol and I can’t sleep I’ll talk to the memorial case holding his suit. If Bruce knew, he was alive how could he not tell me?   
Jason’s smile is as sharp as a knife blade, “He’s known for at least a week, he started looking into me a week after I started as Red Hood.”  
I shake my head, because no just no. Bruce would have told me if Jason was alive.   
“I don’t think he told Dick, because I’m pretty sure Dick would have told you if he knew.” He shrugs as he adds, “I could be wrong though, Bruce might not know anything at all yet, but he will very soon.”   
Taking a breath I force my thoughts away from asking myself if Bruce knew Jason was alive, plenty of time to obsess over that problem after I deal with the current situation.   
“Why’d you bring me here Jason? Why haven’t you come home? Alfred and Dick have missed you so much.” I hesitate to say anything about Bruce, because from the few stories about Jason that I’ve managed to get out of Dick, it seems like Bruce and Jason didn’t always see eye to eye.  
“Because I won’t sit by and watch while Bruce gets another child killed for his mission.” Jason’s voice is sharp, angry a scowl settling over his face.  
“Bruce isn’t going to get me killed, being Robin is my choice. I had to practically force him to let me be Robin.” I say hotly, leaping to defend Bruce, and try to make Jason see that I’m not going to get myself killed.   
“Then you’re a fool and I still need to keep you here so that you won’t go running straight back to Bruce.” Jason says with finality, “Besides Babybird I want to make Bruce suffer and what better way than by making him wonder what happened to his replacement Robin.”   
He pushes away from the wall and strides purposefully toward the kitchen, obviously done with the conversation, but I’m not done yet, giddy with relief that the person to pull off my mask was Jason and not some other nutcase, makes me reckless as I follow Jason into the kitchen.   
The fear and uncertainty that were twisting in my stomach just a moment ago suddenly gone, replaced with a slow simmering anger that slowly sizzles through my veins.  
Taking a deep breath, I force back the overwhelming tide of anger and frustration at the situation and in a controlled voice I try to reason with him, “Jason, you can’t keep me here, Bruce and Dick will come looking for me.”   
He lets out a bark of humorless laughter, “Yeah I thought that too, and we both know how that turned out, so I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you Tim, you’ll just be disappointed like I was, kid.”   
I watch silently from the doorway to the kitchen as he starts pulling things out of the cabinets. Nibbling on my lip I try to figure out how to say this without making Jason mad at me, it’ll do no good to make him mad, because weather I like it or not he has me pretty well locked down with this collar around my neck. Maybe if he leaves I can find the tools to pick it but until then I need to be careful. After all Jason did kidnap me so he can’t be thinking all that clearly at the moment.  
“He did try Jason, he got there just seconds after the bomb blew.” I keep my voice neutral, but I still feel myself tensing up as he turns cold hard eyes on me a clear warning not to get into that conversation.   
“You can try to escape if you want, but this place is sound proof and the walls are all concrete, there is only one exit which I have very secure, and even if you do manage to get past it, the collar will Taser you into unconsciousness if you take one step outside that door.”   
Ok clearly not willing to talk about Bruce and his issues yet. Well at least I know how long my leash is now.  
“What do you hope to gain by keeping me here? Are you really doing this just to get under Bruce’s skin?” I ask gesturing around at the apartment.   
Jason glances over at me his gaze hard, “Listen Tim, I really don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to, so just cooperate and in a couple weeks if everything goes according to plan you can go home in one piece.”  
I hold Jason’s gaze for a long couple of minuet’s without speaking before he looks away to resume whatever he was doing, this time I stay silent and just watch him as he puts water in a pot and sets it on top of the oven to boil.  
Slowly it becomes obvious that he is cooking dinner, or is it lunch?   
“What do you really expect to get out of this Jason?” I try again, “Please just stop this and come home,”  
Jason just smirks at me his teal blue eyes glint with a knowing light, but he doesn’t say anything just reaches into another cabinet and pulls out two plates loading both of them with pasta he sets them at the table before turning back around going to a drawer and pulling out a couple of forks and napkins, he returns to the table and sets them down beside the plates before going to the fridge and pulling out a couple cans of coke and setting them on the table, then sitting down himself in one of the wooden chairs.   
For a couple minuets all I can do is watch him eat, my brain short circuiting over the idea that Jason, actually expects me to sit down and eat with him after he just kidnapped me.  
Jason points his fork at my plate and says, “You better eat before it gets cold.”  
Mechanically I move to the empty chair and sit down, confused and jumbled thoughts warring with my muddled emotions at the paradox of Jason Todd, not only being alive but sitting across from me eating pasta after he’s kidnapped me.   
Father none of this makes any sense, Jason’s actions are not logical in the least. What am I supposed to do? How can I convince Jason to come home before he does something that he’ll regret? I don’t know what to do Father, please help me.  
Picking up the fork I start to eat, surprisingly his cooking is almost as good as Alfred’s. Eating slowly, I can’t help wondering what Bruce is doing and what Jason really wants. This can’t all be just to get back at Bruce, and if it is does he really intend to not hurt me or even let me go when he’s done?  
I don’t know the answers and that makes the food I’m eating sit like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach.


	3. Late Night Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I still don't own anything related to Batman, or DC.

Slipping through the open window of my apartment into my dark living room, I rub at my eyes through the black domino mask covering my face. Sighing I turn around and close the window then the blackout curtains to make sure no one sees me as I slap the light switch on the wall.  
I’m glad Bruce let me get my own apartment, but on nights like this, when it’s about all I can do just to put one foot in front of the other, it really makes me miss Alfred and his dignified presence as he offers coffee or a midnight snack on the rough nights.   
Shaking my head I let my eyes sweep over my apartment, smiling ruefully at myself because I should have done that first thing.   
The light cream colored walls and the dark brown hardwood floors, the black leather couch with matching recliners facing the flat screen TV are all ordinary and in the right place, what is out of place is the brown box sitting siting on the coffee table.   
My body tenses up I pull out one of my escrima sticks and carefully approach the box, my eyes scanning for any sign of an attacker or a point of entry.  
Nothing that I can see is out of place. Whoever came in here either had a key or knew what they were doing.   
Approaching the box I hesitate for a second, entertaining the thought that it might be a bomb or some other trap, but I quickly dismiss the idea. If it was a trap it wouldn’t be so obvious.   
Still I use the end of my escirma stick to flip open the lid. My legs tensed to leap away at the slightest sound.   
My heartbeat pounding in my ears is the only sound to fill the apartment. Letting out a breath I put my weapon up and step closer to the box, shaking my head at my own paranoia. One of my neighbors probably put this here for me. I think with a small smile as I look into the box.   
My heart stops beating for a second as the blood freezes in my veins, my smile vanishing, when I get a look at the contents of the box.   
An 8 x 10 picture rests on top of a very familiar pair of black heavy duty boots. Picking up the picture with precise movements, I desperately try to convince myself that it’s someone else in the picture. Anyone else, anyone who isn’t my baby brother.  
Bringing the picture up for a closer look only confirms what I already know, the boy laying on a bed in the picture with his black hair falling into the extremely narrowed white lenses of his mask wearing a Robin costume restrained and obviously unconscious is my brother. At least I hope he is only unconscious.   
Moving without thinking my hand jerks up to tap my com link, “Nightwing to Batman,”   
The seconds stretch and just when I’m about to speak again Batman’s voice answers me a definite strain in his tone, “Nightwing, I’m a little busy right now.”   
“Where’s Robin?” I cut straight to the chase needing him to tell me the boots in this box are not Robins and the boy in the picture just looks a lot like Robin.   
Because while that would still be awful for so many reasons, it would also be better because it wouldn’t be my brother, it wouldn’t be Tim laying defenseless at the mercy of whoever took him, and I hate myself for wishing it on some other kid but I can’t help it.  
I hear the sharp inhale on the other end of the com that sends dread surging through my system, I swallow hard and close my eyes. As if that can somehow block out the reality that is quickly turning into a nightmare.   
Please, God, let him tell me its not true. I pray even though I know, its useless, because I know that its Tim in the picture.  
The silence lasts for several seconds before Batman asks, “Why are you looking for him?”   
“Just tell me!” I snap, my eyes flying open to stare once again at the picture in my hand.   
“He’s been missing since patrol last night,” Batman’s voice is gruff but I can hear the worry that he is trying to hide, “He was taken from a rooftop after we were manipulated into separating. I found a dart with Tim’s blood on the tip, I found the remnants of a sedative inside it. Whoever took Robin left his belt and all the trackers I had planted in his suit. I managed to follow his trail to an abandoned warehouse where I found Tim’s suit and signs of recent activity but then the trail went cold.”   
I take a couple of deep breaths processing the confirmation that my little Timmy really is in danger. Batman doesn’t ask any questions but his silence is weighted.   
Finally I manage to say, “I’m heading back to the Manor, with a box.” Swallowing again I give him the information he’s been waiting for, “I found it in my apartment when I got back from patrol. Inside was a picture of Robin, unconscious and restrained. His boots were also in the box. I’m bringing everything to the Batcave for analysis.”   
Batman grunts then says “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”   
Normally he would be right to assume it would take me that long to get to the manor from the center of Gotham City, but not tonight.  
Putting the picture back I pick up the box and head for the window as I say, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”   
Batman doesn’t argue with me just sighs and says “Agent A won’t be very happy about that.”   
That brings a smile to my face as I quickly exit my apartment through the window I entered just a few minutes before, but I don’t bother to respond. Once through the window I descend to street level and start running toward where I keep my Nightcycle parked.  
Running through the suddenly silent night, one thought keeps going through my head, Hang on Tim we’re coming.   
Please God, let us find him alive and unharmed. Is the prayer repeating itself in my mind the whole time I’m driving.

**

Sitting on a bed with my wrists handcuffed to the thick metal rails that make up the headboard is not my idea of an enjoyable way to pass the time. It’s been hours since Jason brought me in here then said he was leaving for a while. I heard the metal door lock behind him when he left, but so far I haven’t heard anything else.  
Huffing out an almost silent breath I lean back and bang my head against the wall behind me. Honestly when I woke up to find Jason Todd the former Robin had kidnapped me the last thing I expected to be was bored, but here I am, bored almost out of my mind.   
Glancing around the room again I take in the details for the hundredth time searching for something I might have missed.   
The walls are the same as they were in the kitchen and living room, so is the floor. The only furniture in here is the bed I’m handcuffed to. No windows, no doors, no rug, no pictures, nothing, it’s mind numbingly blank.   
Sighing I turn my head and examine the cuffs holding my wrists to the bed rail.   
Gray metal circle both my wrists and connects them to the bed rail by a short chain. Smith and Wesson Model 1 Universal Chain Handcuffs. Double locked. Hard to pick, but not impossible. They lock down smaller than most cuffs and can open wider. They’re used for people with either bigger than normal wrists or for smaller than normal wrists. Unfortunately I fall into the second category  
Jason picked a good set to use on me. A separate cuff for each of my wrists so that even if I got one off I’d still have to pick the other one before I could get away.   
I could always try just slipping them off, Jason didn’t tighten them all the way so I have a little room to work with. Not a lot and they’d probably take a pound of my flesh with them but enough that I might could get them off.   
Picking the lock would hurt less, not that I have anything to pick them with nor can I reach anything because this room is completely empty.   
I almost wish Jason would come back at least if he did I would have someone to talk too. He would probably take off the handcuffs that would be good. I think gently trying to ease one of the cuffs up my hand, wincing as the tight metal bites a little deeper into my flesh. Yup it’ll really hurt to get them off like that, but it just might be doable. I think letting the metal ring fall back into its original position.  
As if summoned by my efforts, the metal door opens and Jason strides into the room, still dressed in his costume with his cell phone in one hand and a gun in the other.   
Instinctively my muscles tense and I watch warily as Jason walks right up to the bed and presses the muzzle of the gun against my temple.   
My lungs freeze, my eyes widening as I try to figure out what Jason is thinking under his helmet.   
Please Father, I’m not sure what I’m asking for, just that it makes it easier to breath when I call out to him.  
There’s a flash and then Jason backs off, holstering his gun and slipping his cell phone, the one that he just used to take a picture of me back into his pocket.  
“Jason what was that?” I ask my voice sounding far less steady than I would like.  
“Just a little present for Bruce,” His voice comes out with the mechanical sound of a voice scrambler, “Now I have to go for a bit. Sit tight and don’t go anywhere.”   
Even without being able to see his face I just know he’s smirking at me. Leveling my best glare at him I try to make him spontaneously combust with just the power of my glare.  
Jason chuckles sounding more amused than intimidated, much to my disgust, “So Babybird knows how to bark.” Reaching out he ruffles my hair, “I’m going to see Bat’s and Big Bird anything you want me to tell them?”   
“The address of wherever this place is,” I suggest in my best innocent voice.   
This earns me a loud creepy sounding laugh and another hair ruffle, “That’s a good one. I’ll tell them you really hope they find you soon. I won’t be back till late get some sleep and I’ll tell you how it went in the morning.”  
He doesn’t wait for my answer, slipping soundlessly out of the room. The sound of the lock clicking home loud in the suddenly quiet room.  
Scowling at the door I try not to think about how I really do wish Batman and Nightwing would hurry up and find me.  
Glaring at the door I wait and count to a thousand, then I count again, giving Jason plenty of time to get out of the area.   
Once I’m reasonably sure that he’s gone, I bite my lip and get started on trying to wiggle out of the cuffs.


	4. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Racing away from the abandoned apartment building that I’ve turned into my Robin Cage. Surprisingly the improvements I made to make the place a safe house for me are exactly the same things I need to keep a Robin caged. Almost against my will my thoughts turn to the boy I left there.   
Honestly when I lured him away from the big bad Bat the other night, I had no intention of keeping the little Birdie, I just wanted to fight him, test his abilities and make sure that he was better than I was.   
Good enough not to die.   
I wanted to make sure that Bruce wouldn’t get another kid killed.   
However when he landed on the rooftop and started looking around. I saw that he was literally just a tiny little kid, a Babybird, even smaller than I was when I started as Robin, even Dick had more muscle on him when he started than this kid does.  
Forget fighting him, he looks like a strong gust of wind could blow him away.   
Then I saw this tiny stick of a kid in my place at Joker’s nonexistent mercy and I just couldn’t leave him with Bruce to get killed. Because with the casual way Bruce sent him here on his own that is exactly what will happen. If I had been anyone else the kid would be dead. Add to that the panic I can cause by keeping him hidden for a few weeks, and it was an easy choice. I took him, it was almost too easy to get close enough to take the shot.   
In Tim’s defense he did notice me but it was just a little too late for it to do him any good. I’ll let him go after I’ve gotten my message through to Bruce that he needs to keep a better eye on his little birdie.   
It was just good fortune for me that I happened to have busted a drug shipment that also had a crate of inhibitor collars. After securing the kid all I had to do was go to where I had them stashed and grab one.  
Shaking my head I push those thoughts away to focus on where I’m going, my next gift for the Bat tucked safely into my pocket along with the phone with only one number in its contact’s that I plan to leave for him.  
Honestly I don’t know why it’s so much fun messing with Batman like this. I just wish I could have done it without worrying Alfred or Dick.   
My stomach twists at that thought, I don’t have anything against either of them I just need Bruce to understand what kind of target he puts on his kids. I need him to understand that he has to protect tiny, vulnerable little Robins, from those who want to clip their wings for good.  
I left the second package at Dick’s place because I knew Bruce wouldn’t think to tell him what had happened to Tim and I thought that he should know, as much as I would have liked to keep him out of it, but I remember how it felt to not believe that anyone was looking for me, and I don’t want Tim to feel that so I got Dick involved.  
Landing on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse clear across town from where I’m keeping the Babybird. Leather gloves rasp again my leather coat as I pull out the phone and slowly key in the number that I remember from so long ago, and pray that he hasn’t changed the number.   
It’s the number for his com, it can be dialed from any device and will put you through to the com immediately. It’s mainly used by the Justice League, we Bats had other ways of staying in touch.  
It rings, three times before a somber voice answers. I have to take a moment to push back hard against the flood of memories that voice brings.   
Memories of laughter and smiles and train surfing, a lot of the good memories of being Robin are tied up with that voice and the feel of warm arms wrapped around me.   
My finger nearly hits the end call button before I stop myself. I wasn’t ready to hear his voice, this was supposed to be Bruce’s com number, but it has been a long time they could have switched, or I got the numbers wrong.  
Taking a deep breath I plaster a smirk on my face not that he’ll see it but it makes me feel less raw, as I lock away the memories, in a dark corner of my mind until another time.  
“Hello Big Bird, have you misplaced anything recently?” A sharp intake of air is the only sign that he understands who he’s talking to, but I continue not giving him a chance to speak, keeping my voice taunting but playful, “A little Birdie gave me this number so I could talk to you.”  
Mentally I snort at the idea that Babybird would tell me anything at all, but that’s not the point. I want them wondering what I did to Tim to make him give me this number. The beauty of this plan is, I don’t have to actually hurt the kid to make Bruce suffer. All I have to do is make it look like I’m hurting the replacement Robin.  
“Where is he? What have you done to Robin?” Nightwings voice is dark and dangerous, in that tone I’ve only heard once before, when it was me he was defending.  
Shaking off the memory before it can surface I keep my voice friendly as I say “Relax, I haven’t damaged the Birdie, though I have clipped his wings a bit.” The next part I say in an overly cheerful voice, “By the way he wanted me to tell you, He really misses you and hopes you find him before our next exercise session.” Dropping all attitude I add, “I’m leaving you a little present all you have to do is follow the signal from this phone and you’ll get proof that your Little Bird is still alive.”   
Again I don’t give him time to answer instead I set the phone down on the rooftop and pull out Tim’s cape and mask, setting both down next to the phone I turn and swing away to another rooftop where I can watch without being spotted.  
I don’t have to wait long to hear the roar of the Batmobiles engine and less than a minute later two dark figures appear on the roof and walk over to my pile of presents.  
I watch silently as they quickly gather everything up and leave. Probably heading back to the cave to analyze everything.   
Sighing I turn and begin the journey back to my safe house, and the tiny kid. I’ll stop on the way back and get some nice greasy chili cheese fries, the kid needs to put on some weight. I’m surprised Alfred lets him out of the house like that.  
That decided I change my course slightly my mind moving on to the second phase of my plan as I do.

**

It’s almost torture to wait until we are back at the cave to look at the small silver cell phone that was left with Tim’s mask and cape. Batman insisted we let the Batcomputer run a full scan of it and collect as much evidence as possible off of it and the other two items that were left on the rooftop, before we start checking to see what’s on them.   
The unvoiced worry about the fact that Tim’s mask is one of the items sent to us at the forefront of my mind along with the almost crushing fear of what this guy did to make Tim tell him my com number.  
I know it’s logical and we’ll hopefully get some clues to Tim’s location, by doing this Batman’s way. Tim would approve of using the smart road, but I just want to snatch the phone away from Bruce and see what’s on it. I want to see what the jerk who took my brother left for us to find on the phone, and there is no doubt in my mind that we will find something. The guy wouldn’t have left it there otherwise.   
“Nightwing,” Batman’s growl jerks my attention up to the bright computer screen that Batman has been tapping away at ever since we got back.   
“See anyone familiar?” The question isn’t a real question, more a request for confirmation of what he already knows.   
It doesn’t matter I want to see what he’s found, leaning closer I watch as Batman hits a key and a very grainy surveillance feed starts playing.   
It looks to be from ground level but it has a fairly decent view of the rooftop we were called to. For a few minutes all I see is a typical night in Gotham, but then movement on the rooftop catches my eyes, a flash of red.   
For a moment my heart leaps in my chest as an unbearably fragile hope blooms that the figure is Robin, a second later that hope is crushed as the outline of a red helmeted figure that is much too big to be my little brother becomes clear.  
My lungs freeze as I recognize the helmeted man as the Red Hood, a new player in Gotham that has been very rapidly climbing the ladder of power in the drug world. From what we’ve managed to gather about him so far, he is young but well trained, he likes guns, and hates the Joker with a passion. He has rules for his dealers, and if the dealers break them he kills them. Batman interrogated a dealer and learned them, don’t make him mad, don’t sell to kids, and never touch Robin.   
The last one is puzzling because why would he care if his Dealers messed with Robin? If this really is Red Hood had he been planning to kidnap Robin all along or is there something else at play?  
Silently I watch him hold the cell phone to his ear for a couple minutes before setting down it and a few other things that the low quality camera can’t make out, but that I know are parts of Tim’s uniform. Then he walks away from the edge of the roof and out of the camera’s view.   
“Did you recognize him?” Batman asks as he pauses the recording.   
Swallowing down the almost irresistible urge to scream with frustration and fear, I nod curtly and keep my voice completely blank when I answer, it won’t fool Bruce he knows me to well, but it makes me feel a little better.   
“Looked like the Red Hood, but what does he want with Robin?”  
Batman shakes his head, “We don’t have enough information on him, to determine why he’s fixated on Robin.”  
I’m saved from having to answer him by the Batcomputer dinging. I don’t wait for Bruce’s permission whirling around I grab the phone from the case and quickly begin scrolling through the messages and contacts. There isn’t anything in the messages and only one number listed in the contacts, under the name Lost Bird.   
Gritting my teeth I ignore the obvious jab, and click on the Gallery app, there is only one picture and the time stamp shows that it was taken today.   
It’s an up close picture Tim’s face, messy black hair falling into his bright blue eyes that are wide, with fear lurking in their depths, his face is pale and his lips are pressed into a thin line. The cause of the scared look is probably the black pistol pressed against his temple.  
My legs go week at the sight, even as rage floods my system snapping my spine straight and setting my shoulders with renewed purpose.   
Tim’s alive and as long as he’s alive we can save him. I don’t know what Red Hood want’s with him but it doesn’t matter we will find him.  
“There’s nothing in the background that we can use to find his location.” Batman says his voice laced with equal parts relief and frustration.   
“Why does he keep sending us pictures of him?”   
He’s not expecting me to have an answer, which is good because all I have is a question, “Why did he give us the phone and the number?”  
Batman takes the phone from me his face set into grim lines, “Probably so that we can call him.”   
“Are you going to?” I’m not sure which I want him to do, on one hand I’m dying with the need to know who will answer the phone on the other hand I’m halfway expecting some kind of trap on Red Hoods part.   
“Not yet, first we are going to see what we can find out about who this number belongs to.” Batman says turning back to the computer.   
“It’s probably a burner phone.” I point out more for the sake of saying something than out of any objection to Batman’s actions.   
He just grunts and starts typing again.   
Sighing I move over to the table where we’ve laid out all the things that Red Hood has sent us so far.   
Tim’s boots, belt, gloves, and now his cape and mask have been added to the collection. Staring at the pile intently I wish something would just jump out at me some obvious piece of information that we’ve overlooked. Unfortunately for all the things we’ve got Red Hood has been very careful not to give us any clues about who he is, what his motive is, or where he’s keeping Tim.   
Desperately trying to distract myself from the knowledge that we have all the pieces of Tim’s uniform, so what is he going to send now, or will he send anything at all?  
Just hang on Tim we’ll find you. I silently promise wishing that there was some way I could leap through that phone to wherever my little brother is. So that I can keep him safe.


	5. Flying the Coop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story.

Honestly when I stepped into the living room of the safe house, with a bag of burgers and chili cheese fries, I was not expecting to see Tim standing in the kitchen with one of the drawers open and going through the contents of the drawer looking for something. The key to his collar or something to help him get it off, would be my guess on what he wants.  
He won’t find it there or anything useful. I made sure of that before leaving.  
Wrists bleeding sluggishly and the pinkies and thumbs of both his hands swollen, probably dislocated, or broken.   
I could have sworn I tightened those cuffs enough that he couldn’t squeeze out of them, but he is pretty small so I really should have just tightened them all the way to make sure he couldn’t slip out of them.   
His entire body stiffens as soon as I take a step farther into the room. Slowly he turns to face me, tension in every line of his stance. Those bright blue eyes narrowing as they flit over me, the room and the objects that could be used to his advantage.   
Smirking under my helmet I can practically see the gears shifting in his mind as he assess and rejects different possibilities.  
Carefully casual I walk closer to Tim, even as he takes several quick steps back to avoid me.   
“Babybird, what has you up so late?” The words are pleasant my tone is dangerous.   
His chin lifts slightly even as his back hits the counter halting his retreat, his voice as defiant as the fire flashing in his eyes when he answers, “Woke up thirsty decided to get some water.”   
Biting back the laugh bubbling in my chest because, only Bruce could pick three kids whose fallback response to a threat is sarcasm.  
Nodding as if I believe a word that just came out of his mouth I nod toward one of the cabinets, “Glasses are in there not the drawers.”   
The kid glares at me, and really it’s not bad. It would be more effective with the mask but still very intimidating.   
Sighing I set my bags of junk food on the counter, slide my hand into my pocket really wishing the kid had just stayed put. Pulling out the small black remote, his eyes widen instantly the moment he sees it. For a second his young face betrays his fear even as he schools his expression into a blank mask.  
My thumb presses down on the button. His reaction is instant, for a second he goes completely stiff and then he falls to the floor with a loud thud as his body spasms and twists on the floor. A low keening sound halfway between a whimper and a wail fills the air. It’s the only sound Tim makes and it’s somehow worse than if he was screaming or cursing.   
Silently I count to a hundred and sixty in my head before letting go of the button and replacing it in my pocket.   
My stomach twists, guilt making me feel sick as I watch Tim, lay motionless on the floor. His breaths coming in short quick little pain filled gasps, his eyes squeezed shut, his face pale and his body still twitching from the after effect of the electricity, the skin around the edges of his collar is a bright cherry red from, probably burned from the current that went through the metal.   
“That was for trying to escape.” I tell him, more than a little thankful that the filters in my helmet make my voice sound colder than I’m feeling at the moment, “Try it again and I’ll do worse.”  
His eyes crack open in a glare that’s just a little too pained to be taken seriously. I wait for the twitching to stop before I close the distance between me and the kid and pull him up into a sitting position with his back resting against the cabinets, his hands shove weakly at my arms. A pointless effort since he can barely even make me feel him pushing through the thick armor in my jacket.   
His arms drop down to rest in his lap, either realizing it’s pointless to resist in his current condition, or just simply too weak to keep fighting me.  
One I’m sure he won’t topple over as soon as I let go, I straighten back up. Ignoring the suspicious glare I’m getting from the kid I step past him and pull a plastic cup out of the cabinet, step over to the sink and fill it up, then hand it to the kid.   
Wide blue eyes just stare at me for a minute before he takes the cup, with a hand that only trembles a little as he regains his motor control.   
I take a better look at his wrist, while he slowly sips the water. He really did a number on it, where the skin isn’t cut and bleeding slowly, he left it raw and painful looking. Wincing in sympathy because that has to still be hurting, he took off a lot of skin slipping out of those cuffs. I’ll need to get his wrists cleaned up before getting him settled for the night. Then figure out how to keep him from slipping free again.   
Sedatives are always an option but, I’d rather not force drugs on the kid.  
Suppressing my desire to just leave him sitting there or better yet just knocking him out. I move back over to the sink and take out the first aid kit I keep stashed there. Then turn back to find those suspicious eyes still watching my every move.  
He’s acting like he expects me to just start attacking him, and to be fair if he was anyone else I probably would. If he wasn’t so tiny and if I couldn’t remember all the things that I learned about him before going to test his skills.   
Shocking him was hard enough I don’t actually want to seriously injure him, but keeping a healthy Robin caged isn’t easy, and I need him to be afraid of the consequences of trying to escape. I won’t beat him for no reason, but I won’t hesitate to hurt him if I have to.  
At least he doesn’t resist when I crouch in front of him, and start cleaning his wrists. Blue eyes watch me without blinking as I quickly clean up the damage he did to himself, when I finish, Tim’s wrists are encased in white gauze and his dislocated fingers have been popped back into place.   
I pack up my supplies and put it back where it goes. The whole time I’m acutely aware of Tim’s assessing gaze fixed on me.   
Turning around I see that he hasn’t moved from the position I left him in.  
“Come on,” I say nodding back toward his room, before I start walking.   
I sense his hesitation but a second later the soft pad of bare feet follow me to the room that was supposed to be locked.  
Pushing the door open, the room is exactly how I left it except for the fact that the bed isn’t occupied, and the handcuffs hang empty on the headboard.   
The floor creaks behind me glancing over my shoulder I see Tim shifting warily behind me his eyes still darting around. The skin around the collar looks red and irritated from the constant rubbing of his skin against the metal.   
Sighing I grab hold of his arm and tug him into the room before he has a chance move away, and pull him back over to the bed.   
He makes a small noise of protest but doesn’t struggle when I push him down on the bed. Reaching into my pocket again I pull out a small silver key and unlock one set of handcuffs from the headboard, then I unlock the other set.   
Turning back to Tim who is still sitting on the edge of the bed his muscles tensed as if he’s ready to take off running at the slightest excuse.   
He probably would if he thought he had a chance to get past me, but the collar is doing its job making him more hesitant to fight me.  
I grab hold of his ankle and snap one end of the first set of cuffs closed around it then drag his foot close enough to the metal bar keeping the mattress in place for me to lock it closed around it.   
Tim makes no move to stop me or even fight me, but that’s probably because he’s still twitching a little from the electricity.   
Straightening up from where I was bent over, I hold up the other set of cuffs and say, “Hands behind your back.”   
His eyes harden slightly, I’m not sure if he’s going to refuse but then his eyes glance at my pocket and he very slowly almost mechanically turns his back to me.   
Letting out a soft sigh I quickly close the cuffs around his wrists making sure to tighten them as much as I can.   
Ignoring the hiss of pain that Tim lets out as the hard metal edges press against his tender skin even through the padding of the gauze.  
“It would be better for you to stay put from now on.” I tell him in a flat voice.   
The glare he gives me over his shoulder tells me clearly where I can put that idea.  
Shaking my head I can’t stop the chuckle that escapes my mouth, at the feisty Babybirds attitude. Ruffling his hair and smirking at the startled squeak that Tim makes at the action, I walk out of the room carefully locking the door behind me.   
Steeping back I eye the metal door critically, knowing that it’ll take me a couple hours at least to get it rigged up to shock anyone who touches it from the inside, as well as send me an alarm if it’s messed with.   
My eyes feel gritty and my muscles sore, really all I want is a hot shower, a hot meal, and a nice long sleep, unfortunately before I can have any of those things I have to make sure a certain little bird can’t fly from his cage during the night.  
Saying goodbye to my bed, and the other two things on my, to do list I set about gathering what I’ll need to fix up the door.


	6. Almost Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any characters belonging to DC.

Sitting at the table across from Jason the afternoon after my failed escape attempt. I glare balefully at the greasy burger and even greasier chili cheese fries. They are most definitely not something that would make Alfred’s approved food list, and I’m not all that eager to taste them.   
Jason however seems to think that I simply must eat all of them, but at the moment I really don’t care about what Jason wants. Not with the way my hands are throbbing and my throat aching, all I really want is to go home, see Bruce, hug Dick, and let Alfred ply me with food like he always does when he’s been worried about one of us.   
The one good thing about this silent lunch is that Jason took the cuffs off, they were irritating before but after getting out of them Jason tightened them, all the way making them dig painfully into the cuts and raw skin, every time I pulled on them.   
“Eat,” Jason’s voice is tired as he points his fork at my plate.   
Letting out a sigh I reluctantly pick up my fork and stab a fry with it, and putting it in my mouth. It’s every bit as greasy tasting as it looks, settling like a rock in my stomach. As I slowly eat, in an attempt to keep the churning food in my stomach where it belongs, I observe Jason.   
The beginnings of dark rings have started to form around his eyes, his posture is slumped, his elbow on the table with his chin propped on his fist as he slowly eats his food. Even though he is wearing the gray body armor and brown jacket, he still looks tired, I wonder what he’s been doing every time he leaves and if that’s why he’s looking tired today.  
I eat about half, lost in my own thoughts of how I can get the collar remote away from Jason, because the collar is my main obstacle to getting out of here.   
Jason’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, “You’d better finish if you’re going to. I’ve got to go and you have proven that I can’t leave you unattended for long.”   
“What are you going to do?” I ask him struggling to keep the nervousness out of my voice.  
The smile that pulls his mouth up is not reassuring at all.  
He gets up stacks our plates and carry’s both plates in one hand and ruffles my hair with his free hand on his way to the sink, his voice still clear over the sound of the water turning on, “We’re just going to take a little road trip.”   
“I’m not riding in the trunk again,” I say crossing my arms over my chest.   
Jason laughs but doesn’t answer me.   
“I mean it Jason, I have no desire to bounce around in that trunk while you take a pleasure cruse around Gotham.” My voice is flat even though I have the sinking feeling that my words are falling on deaf ears.  
“I would let you ride up front Babybird but I have this funny feeling that you won’t behave during the drive, so you get to take the trunk express.” The biting sarcasm in his voice is not lost on me.  
Growling under my breath I don’t press him about it, I’m pretty sure he won’t actually hurt me unless I attack him or try to escape but I’d rather not push my luck with him. On the upside while we’re riding is the best place for me to try and get away. The memory of my last trip in Jason’s trunk quickly banish any idea’s I have about getting away while riding.   
Jason finishes the dishes far faster than I would like, and Jason comes back over to me, his expression blank and voice serious, “Alright Robin, are you going to behave or am I going to have to use force?”   
For a few seconds I seriously consider fighting him, but the problem is still the same as it’s been from the start. Jason is older and more experienced than I am in hand to hand fights, and he also has over fifty pounds on me.   
Even with those things I would probably still try to fight him, but it’s the collar chaffing at my neck that gives him, his main advantage and also what I’m most hesitant to make him use. I’ve felt its effects twice now, and I’m really not eager to feel it a third time.   
Sighing I push my chair away from the table making the chair legs squeal against the floor, as I stand up, taking a small amount of satisfaction at the way Jason tenses at the movement.   
“Fine,” The word tastes like ash in my mouth and makes something in my chest knot up.   
Jason’s expression softens just for a moment, before turning blank again. He reaches into his pocket and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Probably the same ones from my cell. I think sourly, as he rotates his finger in a circle, silently ordering me to turn around.   
Taking a deep breath I stiffly turn around leaving my back exposed to Jason, but I leave my hands at my sides, and spacing my feet just far enough apart that the short handcuff chain won’t reach. I may not be actively fighting him but that doesn’t mean I’ll make this easier for him.   
If he noticed he doesn’t say anything. He grabs my right arm and snaps the metal closed around it, sending small spikes of pain up my arm as the metal digs into my abused wrist.   
My heartbeat picks up, my mouth suddenly feels dry. All my instincts are screaming at me, to jerk away, turn and punch him before he can finish cuffing me. Gritting my teeth I firmly push those urges away, it takes far more effort than I would like to resist my instincts to fight Jason.  
The cuff biting into my left wrist, only heightens my need to fight while I still can. Clenching my hands into fists I stay perfectly still as Jason bends down and locks another set of cuffs around one of my ankles. He lets out a soft amused sounding huff of air, as his fingers wrap around my other ankle and pushes it closer to my other foot, before securing the other end of the cuff to my left ankle.   
My stomach heaves, threatening to bring back the greasy food that I just ate. A fist clenches around my heart and lungs making breathing almost impossible.   
I hate this.   
Feeling so helpless.  
Jason stands back up fingers closing around my wrist and forcing my arm’s to bend upward until my fingers are between my shoulder blades.   
I can’t stop the whimper from escaping my lungs, pain searing from my hands down my arms to my chest, tightening the vice around my lungs, so that air only comes in short little pants.   
Jason pulls the brown belt, around my chest, arms and wrists letting it take the place of his hand holding my arms pinned to my back, as he moves around in front of me to tighten the belt.   
Putting more pressure on my wrists and hands, lighting my nerves on fire, and forcing a groan out of my lungs as Jason tightens it, more than is needed. In my opinion.  
“Is this really necessary?” I bit out between breaths.  
The black cloth gets wrapped around my eyes again, so that I can’t see Jason’s expression when his monotone voice says, “Yes, it is.”   
A cloth is forced between my teeth and pulled tight as it’s knotted behind my head.   
Jason wraps an arm around my waist picking me up with seemingly no effort and tucking me under his arm as he takes a few steps then stops again, locks click and then we are moving again. Each step he takes jostles my arms sending new pulses of pain washing through me.   
I bit back another groan but can’t stop the soft whimper that slips out.   
My eyes sting, my blood simmers, muscles tense, as frustrated anger and helpless fear, war for dominance.   
The continuous motion of Jason’s steps comes to an end, there’s a click, then a squeal.   
My stomach flips, as with surprising gentleness I’m set down on my stomach on something, firm but soft. The car trunk I’m assuming.   
“Try to relax as much as you can,” There’s something in Jason’s voice that I can’t quite name, “It’ll put less pressure on your hands.”   
I want to snap at him and say, if it’s so easy you try it, but the gag in my mouth prevents me from giving voice to my thoughts.  
A second later the trunk lid slams closed, then the car starts and we’re moving, the car rocking as we pick up speed on the road.   
I didn’t like riding like this last time. This time I absolutely loath it. Every dip in the road every time Jason stops, for red lights, or stop signs, or whatever he’s stopping for. Aggravates my hands, and it always seems to happen right when the pain is dying down, causing it to sky rocket once more.  
Mercifully this ride is much shorter than the last ride. Probably around ten fifteen minutes, until Jason is opening the trunk lid and pulling me out.   
His feet crunch against gravel, or glass, maybe, before the sound of his footsteps gain an echo and the air gets an oily smell. He carry’s me farther into the building. Probably a warehouse or factory of some kind.   
Suddenly gravity losses its meaning as I’m sat down on the hard ground, the cold of concrete seeping through my pants and into my legs.   
Something cold closes around my ankles. Instinctively I try to jerk back but the loud rattle of a chain and the harsh bite of metal into my ankles stops my legs from doing more than pulling uselessly against the chain.   
Hands on my aching shoulders still my movements, then Jason’s voice, slightly altered by the scrambler in his helmet reaches my ears, “I’m going to let you talk to Bruce. Don’t tell him who I am.”   
He’s going to let me talk to Bruce. My breathing hitches at the thought that all of this might be ending soon. He wouldn’t let me talk to Bruce if he wasn’t getting ready to let me go, would he.   
“Tim, do you understand?” Jason demands his voice dark with the promise of pain for those who cross him.   
Quickly I nod my head in agreement. I won’t tell Bruce who Red Hood is, yet.  
Jason lets go of me, and a few seconds later I can hear the sound of ringing, it echo’s loudly, the way only an enclosed practically empty place does.   
Then it stops, the silence nearly deafening as neither people speak at first. The only thing that I can hear is the sound of their breathing, then finally, a deep gravelly voice says, “What do you want?”   
My heart soars and crashes at the same time, at the sound of that achingly familiar voice, a voice that has always meant safety and comfort. One of the voices that I’ve missed so much.  
Bruce.  
“I want many things Batman, but at this moment I’d like you to be at the roof of the Wayne Enterprises building in an hour, and before you say no, there’s someone who’d like to talk to you.” His fingers yank at the knots of my gag until it loosens enough that I can spit it out.   
He presses the phone against my ear, “Batman,” I hate how small, vulnerable my voice sounds, because that’s probably just what Jason wants, but I can’t help it, not with the thick lump growing in my throat, and just the overwhelming need to be home with my family.   
“Robin,” Batman’s voice loses it’s hard growling tone leaving only the deep rumble that he only ever uses for his Robin’s, “Are you alright?”   
“Yes,” It’s almost impossible to force that one word out past the lump blocking my vocal cords.   
Jason pulls the phone away from me then says, “One hour Batman, be there or that will be last time you talk to Robin.”  
“I’m coming,” Both a promise and a threat, is in the ice cold voice of my mentor, my Dad.  
There’s a beep which I assume means that Jason hung up the phone. Jason puts the gag back ignoring my halfhearted noise of protest, then there’s a sharp prick in my neck. Startling a muffled yelp out of me.   
“Don’t worry it’s just something to keep you a little more compliant, until I’m done.” Jason says, I hear a sigh then feel a hand ruffling my hair again, “Take care of yourself Babybird.”   
His hand disappears and silence descends, I don’t hear him walk away, but I know he’s gone. The feeling of another person is gone, telling me I’m alone once again.  
Time ceases to have meaning as I sit in the quiet my ears straining for the slightest sound, as my focus slowly slips away, my awareness coming and going, with no real pattern, along with the pain in my arms, it dulls and flares in sync with the fog in my mind. In the darkness and the silence the uncertainty and fear, comes crashing down on me.  
When I’m with Jason it’s so much easier to push away the way my hands are shaking and the way my breathing is too fast, but now sitting alone, with nothing to distract my mind from the throbbing in my body and the tiredness pulling at my eyes, but I can’t sleep because I don’t know what Jason is going to do to me.   
I hate thinking that because Jason was Robin he was my hero for a long time, but he kidnapped me, and he hurt me, and now he seems to have something against Batman, and I don’t know what he plans to do with me.   
It’s too hard to breathe, my lungs won’t expand, I can’t drag in enough air, and everything just hurts. I’m tired of this, I just want to go home.   
I know I’m Robin now, I shouldn’t be scared but, I am.   
I’ve been trapped by Jason for days unable to escape, unable to fight, unable to do anything, and it eats at me I don’t like being helpless but I can’t get away by myself I need help. I just want Bruce and Dick to find me.   
Please, just let this all stop soon. I don’t like my family fighting, bring us peace. Please. The words keeps repeating in my head, half prayer, half plea. The calm that it brings to my heart, slowly strengthening each time I say it, is all I have to hold onto in the darkness that I’ve been left in.


	7. Confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and Kudos they help keep me inspired.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to DC.

The roof of Wayne Enterprises is empty when Nightwing and I arrive, twenty minutes after Red Hood called us.  
Stepping onto the gravel roof of my company, my black cape closing around me like a shield, I try not to think about why Robin’s kidnapper wanted to meet here.  
He took Robin’s mask, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to match Robin’s face to Tim’s, and from there it wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure out who’s behind Batman and Nightwing’s masks.   
Ruthlessly shoving back the uncomfortable twinge in my stomach that the thought brings. I’ll worry about Red Hood and what he knows, after we get Tim back.  
The rooftop is empty except for the door leading into the building.   
He said an hour but I highly doubt that he isn’t already here watching us from somewhere close.  
My eyes flit over the nearby rooftops, searching for any sign of Red Hood or Robin.   
I hear a sharp intake of air and then Nightwing is running across the roof and leaping off the edge. There’s an almost silent puff of air releasing as he fires his grapple, instinctively I follow behind my oldest son. A few steps bring me to edge of the roof then I step off, firing my grapple line at the same building as Nightwing, in one well practiced movement. The wind pulling at my cape as gravity asserts its control and tugs me toward the ground, before my line snaps taut and I’m swinging through the air.   
Nightwing releases his line, flips once and then crashes feet first through a window to an apartment building directly across from Wayne Enterprises. I follow through the window only a few seconds after he went in, and I finally see what encouraged Nightwing’s little sprint across the roof.   
Nightwing stands in a defensive crouch his entire body tense, I know from experience that it will take very little for Nightwing’s control over himself to snap, resulting in him fighting his opponent, and as much as I would enjoy helping him with that. Right now we have a more important objective to achieve.   
Nightwing is facing a young man dressed in a dark gray body armor with a brown leather jacket over it, brown boots, and the very distinctive red helmet covering his head. Red Hood, the source of our problems for the last several days.  
Glancing away from him my eyes sweep over the apartment looking for any sign of Tim. The apartment is tastefully furnished, with two recliners and a couch pushed all the way up against the right hand wall, a TV hangs on the wall right behind Red Hood, in front of him is a black coffee table with two laptops sitting on it, both screens black but from the blue light blinking in the corner of the screen I know they are on. From the family pictures hanging on the cream walls, I think it’s safe to say that this apartment is not Red Hoods, he probably just broke in to borrow it for our meeting.  
Smart that will make it harder to track him down, if he slips away.  
“Batman, Nightwing,” Red Hood nods almost politely, “I was expecting you a little sooner.”   
He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed, but the slight stiffness in the way he holds himself gives away his tension.  
Nightwing takes a step forward, making no effort to hide the threat of the movement or the anger in his voice, “Where is Robin?”  
“All in good time, Nightwing but first I have a question for Batman.” Red Hood says his attention fixing on me, as if he’s ignoring Nightwing. I don’t trust that assumption, it’s much more likely that he’s paying equal attention to both of us, but it would be easier to tell if he wasn’t wearing the helmet.  
“What are you thinking, letting kids put a target on their backs and sending the out to fight your crazy criminals?” He doesn’t bother waiting for an answer not that I was going to give him one, I’m busy watching the his body language and trying to figure out where I’ve heard his scrambled voice before, “It’s bad enough that your first one was only eight when he started, but after your second one died you never should have let another kid take his place, but no you go and get a tiny little Birdie to pick up where the second left off, you let a replacement be Robin.” The way he spits the name out like it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth has questions whirling through my mind.  
If he doesn’t like Robin than why is one of his rules to leave Robin alone? Does he just not like Robin’s age? Or is it something else?  
“You don’t have any room to talk, you’re the one hurting Robin. You know nothing about us or why we choose to be Robin, and Tim was never a replacement for Jason.” Nightwing says. I grit my teeth to keep from snapping, no names it the field, it doesn’t really matter right now.  
Red Hoods arms drop down to his sides, “You might be surprised at what I know,” He waves his hand in the air as if to dismiss Nightwing again, “Besides I wasn’t talking to you Wingnut. I want to know if Batman regrets letting his second Birdie die, and letting his third Birdie fall into my tender mercy.” His voice is flippant almost taunting.  
Something twists at his tone when he says that, because he’s had Robin for several days. He could have done anything to him in that time, and Tim didn’t sound alright on the phone earlier.  
My blood boils, chasing out the worry and fear that have been my companions since Robin disappeared. If Red Hood has harmed my son, he will learn why so many of Gotham’s lowlifes fear me.   
Sweeping forward past Nightwing so that only the table separates me from Red Hood, I growl, “It doesn’t matter what you think you know or what you want to know, the only way you are leaving this building is with the police after you’ve told me where to find Robin.”  
“Since you don’t want to play twenty questions, then I have a choice for you, Batman,” He sneers, then in one fluid movement he leans over and taps the keys on both laptops waking them up  
I don’t try to stop him, because it’s becoming clear that he didn’t come here to fight, he has something else planned.  
The laptop on the left displays a live video feed of a room with a concrete floor, blacked out windows set in an old wall that has more black mold growing on it than it has paint.   
The room is almost completely empty except for what looks like a bomb sitting against one wall, and a figure in a purple suit with green hair, he’s tied up and out cold in the middle of the room.   
It takes barely a second to recognize the Joker and another second for my stomach to sink as a suspicion starts forming in my mind. Taking a closer look at Joker, I see blood and bruises covering his face, neck and all the exposed skin that I can see. Several dark spots on his suit that is probably blood, have dried around the edges but still look wet toward the center. Either he was hard to catch or Red Hood beat him after he caught him, judging from the placement of the injuries I can see. It’s more likely that Red Hood beat him after catching him.   
If he did that to Joker, what has he done to Tim? I wonder trying not the let the dread that’s knotting in my stomach or the claws of ice ripping into my heart, show in my expression or body language as I turn to look at the second screen.  
It shows practically the same thing as the first, a room with a concrete floor, blacked out windows and walls that should be demolished for health reasons, because of all the mold growing in there. Even the bomb pushed up against the wall is the same.   
The only difference that I can see, is that the person laying on the floor in the middle of the room, is smaller than Joker, has black hair, and that Red Hood spent a lot more time making sure that he couldn’t get away.   
Tim, has a black cloth wrapped around his eyes preventing him from seeing anything, another black cloth in his mouth gagging him, his hands are pulled behind his back, and his ankles are chained to each other and then chained separately to a metal ring drilled into the floor, to prevent him from going anywhere. The skin surrounding the metal collar clamped around his neck is red and irritated looking.  
The knot loosens a little and the claws relax their hold slightly as I take in Tim’s appearance I can’t see an obvious signs of injury on him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt in a less obvious way. I think scowling at the screen.   
“What is this?” Nightwing asks some of the rage gone from his tone, replaced by a worryingly blank tone.  
“This is really very simple,” Red Hood says gesturing to the two laptops, “One of them lives, the other one gets blown to smithereens, but you Batman get to choose which one lives and which one dies.” His voice has a bite to it as he says, “Who will you save Batman,” His finger points almost accusingly at the screen showing Joker, “The Joker? The man who killed your second Robin.” His hand moves pointing at the screen showing Tim, “Will you save your third Robin, or will let him die in an explosion, alone and believing that you are coming to save him? Just like Jason.”  
His word sting more than I like, they tear at the edges of the still healing wound that Jason’s death left in my heart. The wound that Tim’s mere presence has done so much to heal. I can’t let Tim die, but at the same time I can’t chose to let someone else die. This is an impossible choice.


	8. Choices to Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Batman and all other characters belong to DC.

“Robin lives,” Nightwing’s voice is sure, confident, but I never doubted that Nightwing would choose to save his brother if given the chance.   
I’m not here to test Nightwing, I’m here to make sure Batman will do whatever it takes to keep little Babybird safe while he’s learning to fly, and if Batman can’t then I’ll make it look like I blew little Tim up and keep him with me for as long as I have to. I won’t let another Robin die.   
“By the way you only have thirty minuet’s to decide before both bombs blow up.” I say going for a casual tone as I walk around the table so that I’m closer to the window. I have no desire to fight either of them at the moment. I just want to make sure Bruce learns what’s really important.  
I can practically see the steam coming out of Nightwing’s ears as he says, “You already have your answer. Now tell us where Robin is.”   
Glaring into Nightwings masked eyes I hiss, “It’s not your choice to make.”  
“Why do you care who says it? Batman chooses Robin too.” Nightwing says.   
This is why I can’t help but love my older brother, he never even once considers the possibility that Batman might abandon Tim, in order to save that scumbag Joker.   
It doesn’t matter what Batman chooses Tim won’t die, the bomb that’s in the warehouse with him is fake, but I did plant one in another empty warehouse that will blowup if Batman chooses to save Joker, that way Nightwing and Batman won’t be looking for the Babybird for a little while, giving me enough time to get him settled into a more permanent safe house, one that Batman won’t find and that Tim won’t be able to escape from. The bomb with Joker will blowup too because really I have no intention of letting Joker live past tonight, it doesn’t even matter which one Batman chooses, Joker is going to die either way.  
Turning to look back at Batman’s stoic expression I say, “Because you can’t save everyone, and I want to make sure that Batman will make the right choice, this time.”  
“This time?” Batman asks a hint of something an emotion that I can’t name, buried under the layers of disinterest that normally hide what he’s thinking.  
I smirk under my mask even though I don’t feel like there is anything to smirk about at the moment, it just makes the echoing emptiness inside me feel less real.   
“Better hurry up Bat’s you don’t have that long to decide.” I goad him, because I know if this drags on for too long, one of them will attack me, and I’m really not in the mood for a fight.   
“I’m not playing games with you, Red Hood,” Batman’s voice is emotionless as he glares at me, “I won’t choose who lives and who dies, it’s not my place.”   
Growling softly under my breath, I can’t help the words that come out of my mouth, “It’s not your place to save your son?” The malice in my voice is practically tangible, “Forgive me if I thought it was a Father’s place to do whatever it takes to keep their son safe,” Taking a deep breath, my hand’s clenching at my sides as I regain control of my muddled emotions, “I’m not asking you to take a gun and shoot Joker, I’m asking who would you, save if you only had time to get to one warehouse. Tim or the Joker? It really is a very easy choice.” I gesture to the screen showing a beaten up Joker, “This piece of filth that killed Jason your second son,” Moving my hand I point to the screen showing Tim, who somehow looks even smaller than he did the first time I saw him, “Or Tim, who has done his best to make the world a better place.” Dropping my arm to my side, I demand an answer to the question that I really want to know, “Who’s life is worth saving, choose Batman, or I’ll kill them both.”  
Batman tenses to anyone else it would be unnoticeable. I’m not anyone else, I recognize it as the only warning I’ll get. Instinctively I dive into a roll, coming to my feet in a defensive crouch next to the window, just in time to spot Nightwing regaining his feet next to Batman. I assume he tried to tackle me.   
“You won’t win this fight Red Hood, just tell us where Robin is.” Nightwing says, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard it before.   
“Sorry but that’s not how the game is played.” I reply the remorseful tone to my voice intentionally sounding false.   
Batman’s hand disappears beneath his cape, setting off warning bells in my head. I salute at both vigilantes and then flip backward out the window. My hand reaches into a pocket and pulls out a grapple gun, twisting my body around midair, I shoot off a grapple line, it makes that familiar ping sound as it launches. Then snaps taut less than a second later, stopping my headlong plunge toward the ground and pulling me up toward another rooftop.   
My feet hit the gravel covered flat roof with a crunch. I take a moment to look back over at the window I came out of.  
Fine if he won’t play, then I’ll just keep Babybird.   
Distantly I hear Batman order Nightwing to stay with the computers.   
Probably to try and locate where the video is streaming from.  
Smirking to myself I think, he can try to hack them all he wants it won’t lead him to the Babybird, or the scumbag, at least not with the limited time he has. I bounced the signal all the way around the world twice before letting it reach the laptops.   
I wait just long enough for that black silhouette to emerge from the window and start heading toward me before I start running.   
I’m not sure why I’m even bothering, it’s pretty clear that Batman will never make that choice, because he sees it as picking who dies but I’m not asking him to do that, I’m asking him to put his Robin’s life before the criminal’s life. I need to know that if it comes down to it he’ll save this Robin, because he doesn’t deserve to turn out like me.  
Dashing across the rooftop I throw myself off the other side, firing the grapple at a convenient gargoyle, and swinging away, with Batman only a few yards behind me.  
There’s a distinctive whistling sound, it cuts through the normal night sounds, as familiar to me as my own heartbeat. Drawing a knife I half turn and deflect the Batarangs that were thrown at me, motions as smooth as a dancer spinning across a stage, with practiced ease.   
A second later I’m on another rooftop this time I don’t run, I wait. This is his last chance to get Tim back.  
It only takes him a second to appear on the roof soaring out of the darkness without any hesitation, he flies at me, fist pulled back to punch. I duck, spinning away from his fist. He follows after me with a leg sweep which I jump over, only to be knocked down by a fist to my stomach.   
Air whooshes out of my lungs, pain refusing to let me pull air back in for just a second, before my chest expands drawing in air once more as I back flip away from Batman.   
I didn’t come here to fight but if that’s what he wants then so be it. I think savagely as I spin to face Batman’s charge again. Blocking a punch and bringing my knee up into Batman’s armored side. I doesn’t do more than knock him off balance a little but that’s all the opening I need to slam my fist into his unprotected jaw.  
He takes a step back, his leg rising up going for a high kick. I roll out of the way, popping back up to my feet a good distance away.   
Heart racing I demand, “Do you care nothing about your little Bird, that you’d rather catch me than save him?”   
Batman descends on me an animal like growl coming from him as he says, “You don’t have a clue what Robin means to me.”   
I block his attack again, falling into a rhythm, punch, block, leg sweep, dodge, kick, uppercut, kick, block, block, jab. The movements are familiar, bringing back memories of hours upon hours spent training in the Batcave to get a new move just right, because I wanted more than anything to hear him tell me good job. Time spent sparring with Batman learning how he moves and how to move with him.  
It’s been a long time since I’ve sparred with him, we’ve both improved in our fighting since my time as a little boy who had no idea how to really fight. It’s different now, he’s different, but in a lot of ways it’s the same.   
We both land hits but the armor in our suits absorbs most of the damage that we could have done to each other.   
Jumping back to avoid his kick I ask, “If Joker had given you the choice would you have saved Jason?”  
Almost instantly I regret the words, I hadn’t intended to ask that.   
Batman stills for a second, his voice almost too soft for me to hear the single word that comes out, “Yes.”   
Then he’s moving again attacking me again.   
My body dodges and blocks almost without conscious effort from me, my mind to busy trying to understand the implications of that single word.   
Yes, he would have tried.   
It’s just words, they don’t change what happened, but at the same time they change everything.  
Taking a shaky breath that has nothing to do with the kick Batman just delivered to my stomach, I reach into my pocket and pull out a remote without hesitation I press the button.  
Instantly Batman demands, “What did you do?” Under the gruff sound of his voice there’s this desperate tone that I’ve never heard before. It rips at my heart, as I wonder if that’s how he sounded when he was looking for me.   
Never before have I been so happy to have the voice scrambler in my helmet to help hide the way, my voice shakes, “I’ve just speed up the timers in both bombs, you have seven minutes to get to the bombs and save the scumbag and your little replacement Robin.”  
I see his whole body tensing up, but I don’t give him time to attack again before rattling off the addresses of the places I stashed Babybird and Joker.   
Batman quickly orders Nightwing to the closer of the two addresses, which happens to be the one Jokers at.   
I nearly attack him again for that but instead, I watch silently as Batman stares at me for a few seconds, before I jump off the roof, he doesn’t try to stop me from swinging away.   
“Come home Jason.” The words are so soft, spoken in a voice that belongs more to Bruce than to Batman that I’m not sure if I really heard it, or if it’s just wishful thinking on my part.  
I don’t turn around, ignoring the way a fist clenches around my heart as I pretend I didn’t hear him. Maybe one day I’ll go back but right now, I’m not ready. There are a lot of things that I need to work through first.  
I don’t go far landing on a rooftop a few buildings away, I watch as Batman swings away to go rescue his little bird.   
“Take care of him Batman,” I whisper to the rapidly disappearing figure, “Because next time, I won’t give him back so easily.”   
Melting into the night I head toward where I planted the real second bomb. No need to destroy a perfectly good warehouse, besides I can think of a few better uses for the explosive device.


	9. Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented, read, and given kudos to this story. I hope you like the last chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Coming to a halt outside the old warehouse by the docks, that’s practically falling in on itself. I’m extremely glad that Batman made the noise level on the Batmobile controllable so that we can approach silently. Just in case Red Hood decided to leave us a surprise.  
The Batmobile has barely come to a stop before I’m hopping out, keenly aware of the fact that we’re down to three minuet’s, after disabling the bomb with Joker and calling Gordon to come get him.   
Reaching the building I quickly find a window, and force it open. Thankful beyond words that it doesn’t make any noise.   
I slip through the window, landing on perfectly silent feet and move two steps to my right allowing enough room for Batman to descend into the warehouse with me, as my eyes scan the room we’re in. Looking for the bomb and more importantly looking for Tim.   
It only takes a few seconds for my eyes to land on figure laying curled up on his side, in the middle of the warehouse.   
For a second all the air leaves my lungs and my knees go weak with relief because he is here. After all this looking, he’s right in front of me, alive.   
The swoosh of a black cape as Batman sweeps past me heading straight for the bomb, snaps me back to attention. There’s still work to be done, questions that Tim will hopefully have the answers too.   
I silently ghost across the floor as I approach, Tim stiffens then very subtly starts straining against the restraints holding him in place.  
The sight of Tim struggling in vain to get free and the way his expression pinches, in that way that say’s he in pain and trying not to show it, makes my chest ach.   
“Tim,” The word isn’t loud barely more than a whisper but Tim reacts, he goes completely still. My throat closes up preventing me from speaking, from reassuring him that it’s just me, that he’s safe and I won’t let him get hurt.   
I can’t say any of those things, so I kneel next to Tim on the grimy cold floor, and gently gather my baby brother into my arms holding him close.   
His entire body stiffens, and for a second I‘m not sure if he’s going to struggle I almost let go of him, I don’t want to scare him, but then he goes limp letting me hold him as much as the chains on him allow. I don’t move just enjoy the feeling of Tim in my arms, warm, alive, and safe. I smile down at the tangled black locks of hair, he’s going to have to put up with having me follow him around for a while, because it’ll be a long time before I let him out of my sight again.

**

I’m not sure how long it’s been since Jason left, but I’m more than ready to get off this floor and into a more comfortable position.  
I don’t know how long he plans on being gone, but I really wish he would hurry up and come back. Anything has to be better than the constant throbbing pain, in my hands.  
The hair on the back of my neck rises, and even though I can’t hear anyone walking, I know that someone has entered the room I’m in.   
Jason might have come back. I think straining my senses for even a hint of whoever is here, or even just to prove to myself that someone is here, that I’m not imagining it.  
“Tim,” My name is barely louder than a breath of air, but the voice is one that I know instantly.  
Warm arms smelling strongly of Kevlar and sweat wrap around me, crushing me against Nightwings chest.   
The whispery sound of a cape sliding over the ground reaches my ears seconds before, gentle fingers start pulling out the knots in the blindfold, then pull it away from my eyes, the sudden brightness hurts for a second but then it stops as my eyes adjust to the dim light in the warehouse that I was left in.  
Batman gets the gag off of me next, I turn my head burying my face in Nightwings neck, not really registering the words Nightwing’s saying just soaking up the sound of his voice, like a sponge soaks up water.  
For an instant the belt pinning my arms in place tightens but then it falls away, allowing my arms to fall back into a more natural position as thousands of tiny pinpricks signal the return of blood circulation to my arms and hands. The collar around my neck beeps three times as Batman messes with it. Each time I flinch at the sound expecting to feel electricity tearing through me at any second.   
It doesn’t happen instead it clicks open, and Batman pulls it away from my neck, then he throws it across the warehouse, where it crashes into one of the walls with a very satisfying smashing sound. A few seconds later my hands and feet are free as well, the cuffs joining the collar on the other side of the warehouse with the clang of metal hitting metal.  
Before I can lift my arms to return Nightwings hug, I’m being lifted by stronger arms and held against a broader chest, one that has a dark bat at the center.   
I don’t mind the change, I wrap my arms around Batman’s neck and hold on tight, safely held in his embrace.   
There’s a sharp inhale and then Nightwings voice demands, “What happened to your hands Tim?”  
Cringing slightly at the reminder, I mumble my answer without looking up, “I was handcuffed, he left them loose enough for me to slip out, but I hurt my hands doing it.”  
One of Batman’s large hands rubs small circles on my back, the way he always does when one of us are sick, hurt, or scared. I press my face against his chest, feeling the vibration of his voice as he says, “We will talk about this after we get Tim checked out.” His voice is finale.  
Finally I let go of the tension, fear, and uncertainty that’s been building up over the last few days, because Batman has always and will always be my safety net, he will protect me and he will always find me when I’m lost.   
It’s not that Jason was mean to me, because he wasn’t not really considering what he could have done, but I just missed, Dick, Bruce and Alfred so much, that’s the reason I don’t try to stop the silent tears from escaping my eyes and soaking into Batman’s suit.   
Gloved fingers gently run through my knotted hair, I look up to see Nightwing’s smile that holds so much emotion directed at me that I can’t even begin to guess what he’s feeling.  
Batman stands up in one smooth movement, his voice lacking its normal growl when he says, “Let’s go home.”   
Those words have never sounded so good to me before. As Batman walks out of the warehouse, I close my eyes, and in the quiet of my mind I whisper, Thank you Father. Because even though I couldn’t see him, I know he was here with me the whole time.   
Batman carries me out of the warehouse, the night air cool against my skin, I hear car doors opening, and then I’m being settled onto Nightwings lap.  
I have a feeling that I’ll be having two shadows following me around for a while. The thought brings a small smile to my face, I don’t think that I’ll mind too much if that is the case, because this feels really nice.   
Opening my eyes I watch as Batman slides into the driver’s seat, starts the Batmobile and then we’re moving. Batman skillfully navigating the twisting roads that snake around the many old warehouses in this section of town, as he guides us ever closer to home.   
Maybe one day Jason, will come home too.


End file.
